


粘着系男子の15年ネチネチ(A Clingy Boy's Fifteen-Year Pursuit)

by mie_tachibana



Series: Blessed by the God of Love [2]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Drama, Fluff, M/M, Memory Loss, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 18:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mie_tachibana/pseuds/mie_tachibana
Summary: Satoshi Ohno knows he's being clingy but if it'll take him an eternity (or fifteen years) to reach Sho Sakurai in some way, so be it!





	1. First Stage「否認」

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [粘着系男子の１５年ネチネチ](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/340737) by 家の裏でマンボウが死んでるP. 



> as seen on http://lorchenne.livejournal.com/tag/fanfic%3A15years
> 
> The poems at the beginning of each chapter are written by the character Satoshi.  
> The chapter titles are connected to the poems.  
> The poems are hints to the ending. Try not to spoil it if you've checked the original as well. :')

**First Stage**

_I'm awake in a world of sleep_  
scuffling in seas waist deep  
Perseverance! I vow- 'till forever, from now  
for naught will be reached should I weep.

* * *

 

_First Year_  
  
Words never came easily to Satoshi Ohno, but his life had already been flipped over. He never said much unless spoken to, and boy did Sho Sakurai speak to him a lot. This confused and sometimes annoyed Satoshi back then, when things were simpler. Now that life decided to tangle and implode upon itself, the silence without Sho was oddly deafening.  
  
So Satoshi wrote. A poem for each day was carefully folded and tucked into neat pink envelopes and sent to Sho. He was a busy guy, always sought out by a dozen other people he had important things to do with. Satoshi didn't mind coming in last on that list, as long as he was on it. He was always patient and Sho always thanked him for it.  
  
Perhaps, Satoshi said to himself that year, he would just have to be extra patient.

* * *

  
_The Second Year_  
  
Speaking still is not Satoshi's favorite thing to do. Even with Sho, he did most of the listening. The daily poetry writing helped him get thoughts into words now, however.  
  
A year of poetry and Satoshi never once thought of giving up. He was aware of how ridiculous the idea of pursuing a boy with poetry is. There was very little to differentiate him from a stalker or an obsessed weirdo. Not that it mattered to him. He was determined to get an answer.  
  
On one such evening, as he wrote his twenty-fourth poem of the year, he was very engrossed. It was one of two times he made extra special: Sho's birthday. He had coffee, a thesaurus and an energy bar on his desk. It was way past the last mealtime, he had only taken a break for the loo and a shower.  
  
Whether it was day or night was not very clear. Just that it was getting so hot that he was coughing. It didn't help that someone seemed to either be cooking or smoking nearby.  
  
When he looked up to drink coffee to clear his throat, his house was on fire.  
  
Adrenaline kicked in, perhaps sharpened by caffeine. He grabbed his poetry tools and his goldfish in a bowl and stumbled out.  
  
He had no injuries, but it was very cold in January even in front of a house fire. Not that it mattered. He had all he needed, the birthday poem, the goldfish and the collar on the shirt that Sho said suited him well. It was a lucky shirt -or a lucky collar- indeed...


	2. Second Stage「怒り」

**Second Stage**

 

_Can you hear the thunder over the skies?_  
Can you see the lightning flash before your eyes?  
Can you feel at all, this storm that's coming?  
The sounds of a heart that's burning

* * *

_The Third Year_

High time for a different strategy, Ohno decided.

He did save all he needed from that fire a year ago, but he lost everything he wanted to keep. Shelter, food, and clothing are human needs but can all be replaced anytime. What he can't buy even from the nearest, most well-stocked  _Daiso_ would be the little things: photographs with and of Sho, study notes he had borrowed from Sho (which he didn't need but he just wanted to ask for), and a couple other memorabilia.

He nearly lost the lucky shirt, too. Now it was a lucky collar.

He still had his companion goldfish, however. It made the moving to a new house pretty bearable. The goldfish moved fishbowls too, so Satoshi wasn't alone in his misadventure. He wrote his poems in front of his peaceful roommate, sometimes telepathically asking for ideas which oddly came anyway as he stared. Perhaps he was a fish in the past life.

Perhaps Sho forgot about him already.

Sho promised to name the goldfish with him, after all. Sho forgot. Sho always forgets things. Not the things that mattered anyway. He was the textbook definition of meticulous, planning his day to the minute. Satoshi's name was never on the planner for reasons he didn't bother to ask about. If they were going to be together, they should be open. Sho was just never open enough, no matter how much he talked. It frustrated Satoshi to think.

He wrote about it nonetheless.

It was all he knew to do at this point. However, since it was time for a new strategy, he was posting his poetry online. No fire can burn his work off the internet. It was both a loud and a quiet call. He never mentioned Sho's name but for sure it'd catch the other boy's attention. Letters and internet posts. Who can forget or ignore that? In fact, everyone loved his poetry. His daily poetry on Mixi broke the system.

Sho wasn't  _everyone_ , though.

* * *

  
_The Fourth Year_  
  
Satoshi was the talk of the town on the internet. He didn't really care about fame, he didn't need it. It was Sho's attention he was trying to get. Then again, Sho was trendy himself. Always a step of two ahead of his peers in things like news and fashion. Satoshi could swear by now that Sho was ignoring him. The other boy sometimes gave people the silent treatment to prove a point which is usually "I'm right".  
  
Satoshi didn't care who's right and wrong.  _Wrong_ is to forget a promise to name a goldfish until it died. That was Sho's fault. Satoshi had to use an empty grave marker. In honor of the goldfish and the ideas it had telepathically given Satoshi, he decided to dedicate his life to writing. He took an offer from a magazine and earned a cozy amount from his work. That should annoy Sho, how idly Satoshi spends his time. He still wrote poems and sent them daily but he didn't need to break a neck over work like the average salaryman. Sho probably will, since he loved being busy. That should work, Sho was loudest when he's displeased about something.  
  
Satoshi is quietest when he is.

* * *

  
_The Fifth Year_  
  
Better than planned.  
  
Since Sho was ignoring him, Satoshi accepted fame. This time, it would definitely be hard to not notice. Satoshi Ohno was a big name now that he had become a professional poet. While being vocal was still something he wasn't a master of, he could now pull out lines from his poetry from the top of his head. It was the goldfish, perhaps. The goldfish had blessed him.  
  
What he never saw coming were the fans.  
  
The very same people who maxed out the MyMixi counter were young women. He dismissed it as a feeling of kinship they must have when reading his work. They must also be waiting for a boy to respond to their pathetic cries. Maybe one or two of them were pining after Sho as well. Sho was always the popular one. He was like a  _manga_  character who jumped out of the pages with his handsome features, interesting personality, and everything. It was the latter part that made Satoshi so determined.  
  
Besides, he was always with Sho. There's a side to Sho only he knew.  
  


* * *

  
_The Sixth Year_  
  
Seconds and minutes and hours were passing since Satoshi's poetry time.  
  
He had a very important schedule to keep, just like Sho. He didn't care all that much about the people who were expecting him to stay on schedule, like his agent and his editor. There was only one time-sensitive person he cared about-Sho!  
  
And yet they held him down in the van. The noise was confusing but his writing muse thankfully never left. That muse, the goldfish, was swimming in and out of sight as the people around him not to fight because he would be alright. He knew it was a lie. He would not be alright if he didn't get to write for Sho that day.  
  
Words, he needed words. But all that comes from his mind were for Sho, and these things are reserved. So he made sounds. Pleas. Until something sharp went in his arm and he felt drowsy. It was a moment after the first time he heard "combative patient" used to describe himself.  
  
He wasn't trying to be violent. He was just trying to reach Sho.  
  
When he woke up, that was the first thing he had in mind. The noise of the television in his ward was ranting about a pro poet known for his daily poems and nearly crashing Mixi who was in a car accident. Perhaps that would call Sho's attention. He always cared about the news. He saw a pen at his bedside and started writing on the sheets, having nothing else to write on. Maybe a hospital blanket would make a big enough package for Sho to notice...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Mixi](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mixi) (Second Stage onwards)
> 
> a popular Japanese social networking service. It was huge back in the day.  
> Not so different from Facebook, Satoshi posted his work on his profile and "maxed out" the MyMixi counter, basically he went viral.
> 
> "[combative patient](https://wikem.org/wiki/Combative_patient)" (6th year, Second Stage)  
> patient that is violent or possibly harmful  
> I began to hint at his unstable mental health here.


	3. Third Stage「取引」

**Third Stage**

_It takes two to tango_  
a step forward and a step back  
Perhaps you've adjusted  
to the finesse that I lack

* * *

_The Seventh Year_

"Bouncing back" was perhaps not the most accurate way to say Satoshi has recovered, what with his level of potential energy...or his lack of it.

Either way, he has recovered. Probably more than a hundred percent.

He promised his writing muse and Sho, that he would take better care of himself now. After the nightmare that was being in the hospital for quite a long time, he didn't want to encounter any more trouble that would impede him from writing. He was stable with all other resources like food and money, but health is more of a variable.

Sho wasn't completely a health nut but he knew a good deal about it. He knew a pretty good deal about just everything. He was like a mother at times, taking one look at Satoshi and identifying things like, "you lack sleep," or "you haven't eaten".

Satoshi's mind wandered to those days. He was thoroughly spoiled by Sho being so caring and situationally aware. Satoshi, on the other hand, would probably end up in a hospital before he'd know he was sick.

That year, instead of taking bold all-nighters, he used bold similes and metaphors.

Sho Sakurai is like [Extreme Ironing](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Extreme_ironing), a mundane task done to the highest level.

Sho Sakurai is like [inner product space](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inner_product_space), complicated stuff containing more complicated stuff.

* * *

 

_The Eighth Year_  
  
Cozy in his earnings from having compiled a poetry book, still doing magazine entries and absolute frugality, Satoshi wants nothing more in life than Sho's response. But in his excellent health, he had begun to think a little differently.  
  
He took care of himself in the hopes that Sho wasn't ignoring him for being so reckless in the past years. Sho usually dove into situations head-first from what people see. Satoshi knew that Sho was more than an impudent  _yankii_ who did as he wanted. He did his thinking behind the scenes, outside of the spotlight. It looked spectacularly like a last-minute success but it was the product of thinking ahead.  
  
That was something Satoshi was never able to catch up with: Sho's mind. It ran like a wagon on a slope, hence his ability to talk about anything with anyone. Satoshi's only good with listening, but Sho would always say that's his best point.  
  
"You're like...an ideal dad." Sho once laughed.  
  
But just being himself wasn't enough to make Sho respond. He tried bold metaphors last year, completely different from his usual writing style. If he had been more engaging and interesting, would Sho have liked his company a lot more? Would he have made Sho laugh more? If Satoshi was more  _something_ perhaps Sho would respond.  
  
So Satoshi stuck to his new plan from last year.  
  
Sho Sakurai is like winning 16 sumo battles in a row, unbelievably amazing.  
  
Sho Sakurai is like an [AMPA glutamate receptor](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AMPA_receptor), causing funky brain stuff Satoshi didn't really know about.  
  


* * *

  
_The NinthYear_  
  
Satoshi Ohno? Who is that?  
  
Satoshi himself had no idea. While it started as a bit of identity crisis, it went on to be a total wipeout after he responded to his name at some alley. To his horror, he found himself in a hospital  
  
Sho Sakurai was all he could say, but they knew it wasn't his own name. Even he himself knew it wasn't his name, just that he lived his entire being for the one called Sho Sakurai.  
  
The bandages on his head didn't say anything about how some hater cornered him and hit him on the head. That's what people told him. He didn't care. What's important is that he mustn't miss a day of poetry. He insisted on writing and nearly escaping once, in his desperation.  
  
One of the things he remembered vividly was that he was hospitalized before too, and he pulled off writing then. And Sho Sakurai was a man who was always on time. Satoshi must be on time too. He has to write. And Sho will probably respond.  
  


* * *

  
_The TenthYear_  
  
He had gone back to a semblance of normalcy. Family and other supporters helped him get back on his feet and all, but he managed himself just fine. He wanted to be alone more than anything so he could continue writing. Perhaps if he went on writing every day in his old poetry style, Sho Sakurai would respond. Sho Sakurai was all that mattered now. Sho Sakurai was on top of all his memories.  
  
Satoshi pondered. What could he do, what could he give, to get Sho Sakurai to respond? He now recalled that he has everything a bachelor could want. He recalled Sho Sakurai loved poetry. Sho Sakurai's name was written with the most beautiful combination of kanji he could ever think of. He recalled something about a goldfish so he bought one. What was the name?  
  
Sho Sakurai had something to do with the goldfish. Sho, a goldfish and a breezy summer night.  
  


* * *

  
_The Eleventh Year_  
  
Satoshi Ohno had wealth, fame and absolutely nothing. He gave away his wealth and covered up his fame. People think he has stopped writing. Some say he's dead. Sometimes, Satoshi agrees with the later.  
  
He is nothing without Sho. There is nothing without Sho.  
  
He has never stopped writing, though. But this time, his audience is one specific man.  
  
He was close to figuring something out. He consulted the goldfish as he felt some kind of pull to it. He guessed that he used to do it often since it felt pretty natural to stare at the fishbowl and remember bits and pieces.  
  
Two boys, a goldfish and a breezy summer night.  
  
A bet they lost, yukatas they wore.  
  
What else? The goldfish never answered and Satoshi understood. There was an old goldfish. Maybe if he reconnected to the first goldfish, he will remember. Maybe if he remembered, Sho would finally respond at last.  
  
But where was the goldfish? What was the name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [yukata](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yukata) (Third Stage onwards)  
>  a kimono of light material, often worn at traditional Japanese inns and during summer festivals  
> Boys don't usually wear yukata on such festivals but hey. It's yama, we know they'd look great. :)


	4. Fourth Stage「抑うつ」

**Fourth Stage**

_He was the sky_  
of beautiful blues  
and I am the sea  
reflecting his hues

I'd lift waves when he cries  
but we can never touch  
my tears, my tricks, and all my tries,  
now none of them means much

* * *

_The Twelfth Year_

A fire could happen again and Satoshi would not be removed from his seat. He had gotten exhausted of reassuring people that he was alright. He did not have time for anything else and anyone else. At that point, he was going with the only thing he knew and remembered. Sho Sakurai and the goldfish.

Like a robot, he still sent his poetry to Sho but it was a battle and he was losing. He knew he shouldn't act as if pursuing Sho would help him recover his memories. But it was the only thing that helped. He could recall that it was Sho who tutored him when he nearly flunked. It was Sho who always shared food with him. And something about Sho that summer evening.

Sho in a fashionable looking yukata. It was red. Sho smugly declared that he was stealing Satoshi's favorite color that night. Satoshi hadn't bothered to correct him, that he liked red and its intense color family on Sho. His own favorite color was blue, like the sea and the sky.

He picked up the poetry compilation he had published. He could recall a little of the year he published it. When he did book signings and smiling to the inexperienced pansies whose hearts he had reached instead of Sho's.

He read the poems, noticing the difference in style. He looked into the internet for the ones he had on Mixi back then. It was all different too. As well as the other poetry compilations. He wondered how many of them Sho read.

_"I could read your poems all day! And watch your..."_

Sho's voice echoed in his head. What was it Sho wanted to watch? The goldfish?

Satoshi turned to look at the goldfish. He didn't get a response from it either.

* * *

  
_The ThirteenthYear_  
  
Painting. Satoshi had forgotten about painting. He had scrambled all over the house, pulling out his dusty paint tools, the yellowing pages of his sketch pads and the old doodles. Some of the sketch pads had odd pairs of drawings side by side: a fair enough looking art and one that didn't make much sense other than if you assumed a left-handed two-year-old did it on his right hand. Satoshi's laugh echoed in his empty house, recognizing the art style.  
  
Sho was the worst at drawing, cooking, and dancing. The things Satoshi excelled at.  
  
Sho was great at public speaking, sports, and academics. Everything Satoshi can't handle.  
  
They were the perfect team. Satoshi remembered.  
  
Every time Satoshi finished his poem of the day, he painted. Only so he could keep the darker thoughts away.  
  


* * *

  
_The Fourteenth Year_  
  
Escape was impossible.  
  
At times, he would sit beside his desk, under the window frame, hugging the little glass bowl. He would look into the fishbowl for hours, asking all the questions that he felt would break his skull soon. He was perhaps going insane, trying to get a response from both Sho Sakurai and the goldfish had been futile all this time. The voice he heard replying was his own now. How long had he been muttering to himself? How long had he been sobbing in that corner?  
  
How long has he been writing?  
  
The goldfish had no reply. Neither did Sho.  
  
Sometimes, when Satoshi dug up another old poem he had written years prior, something about Sho comes to mind and it was comforting. When the warm moment of remembering was over, Satoshi would look over to the goldfish and how it coldly ignored him. He could almost feel the goldfish mocking him.  
  
_He'll never respond,_  the goldfish would say.  _There are many fishes in the sea._  
  
Satoshi didn't care how many fishes there were. He could fish a million but there's only one Sho. He might have yelled this once or twice, likely not in a coherent way. He wasn't sure if he still knew how to talk, after not using words that way for perhaps a year now. Words were always written into poetry, folded into a pink envelope and sent.  
  
_There are many fishes in the sea._  His family had also said this once. He had not spoken to them since.  
  
He knew he was nothing but a fish in a bowl. The goldfish swam and swam in its bowl as he wrote and wrote in his house. They were perhaps two of a kind. He didn't bother turning the heat up in his tub so sometimes he could put the goldfish in with himself, so at least the two of them would have company for a little while. Two fishes in one big bowl.  
  
Sho was not a fish in the sea. Sho was his sky. Sho was his soul.  
  


* * *

  
_The Fifteenth Year_  
  
Satoshi Ohno has remembered everything.  
  
The goldfish bowl was in his hands and he felt his grip loosen. He had finished the painting and went to check on the motionless fish. Then he remembered everything.  
  
Summer, fifteen years ago. They were teenagers, a pair of particularly stupid ones when they got together. They've spent an entire week hatching the most idiotic shenanigans out of nowhere. They had met only four years prior but it was like they were each other's perfect pair. All the cliches were hilariously true. Neither of them cared how they were teased by their other friends and even had a laugh whenever one of them crossdressed. Sho looked great in a dress but Satoshi was better at being in-character, they agreed.  
  
One night, Satoshi's mother had insisted for him to go to the local night festival after she found an old yukata of his father's. His father said to get rid of it since it was old and none of the kids wore them anyway. His mother and sister insisted, just for the pictures. He obeyed, thinking of getting food and perhaps a goldfish. He came to the festival with his sister but she left with her boyfriend and friends.  
  
Satoshi wandered about, getting his face stuffed with as much food he could afford. He finally found the goldfish scooping stall and patiently watched as the line of people tried their luck. He still had choco banana to eat anyway.  
  
"Satoshi-kun?"  
  
Yes, that was it. Sho's face, Sho's voice. Sho in the red yukata. That summer night they didn't plan to meet.  
  
"Orihime in a red yukata!" Satoshi joked. "I'll catch you a fish!"  
  
He used to joke around with Sho often. Sho would meet those with quick-as-a-whip tsukkomi lines. But that time, Sho just laughed.  
  
"I suck at this, so go ahead, Hikoboshi!"  
  
Sho paid before Satoshi could think of money. He then squatted close to the small tub to catch one of the agile little fishes with the flimsy paper scoop.  
  
"I lost a bet with my sister, so I'm wearing this. But I get to steal your favorite color!"  
  
"Ah, sisters," Satoshi replied then, eyes identifying the easiest fish to catch. Sho laughed again.  
  
"You too? I expected red since you always said I look pretty great in red."  
  
Satoshi didn't reply, too engrossed. He should have looked Sho in the eyes then and told him he looked beautiful. Satoshi in the present recalled that, his fingers quivering and the goldfish bowl slipping ever so slightly.  
  
He actually caught a goldfish that night. They did a high-five and Satoshi nearly dropped the fish. They laughed and laughed because red is a lucky color but Satoshi will always be too  _tennen_. They went around, conquering the games until people began to quietly judge and glare at how well they worked together. Sho just happened to be surprisingly good at ring toss and with the balloon fishing, Satoshi was just as great. They were full by the time they've explored the whole place and decided to take a walk going down from the shrine, happily recounting their winnings as they ate cotton candy.  
  
"Hey, which school are you going to?"  
  
"I don't know, I don't think I'll go to college," Satoshi replied. He had no thoughts of the future because his head was quite satisfied with the present. Just being with Sho, laughing and eating. "You're going to Keio, aren't you?"  
  
"Why don't you come with me?"  
  
Satoshi snorted as Sho nudged him on the shoulder. "Me?!"  
  
"They have a literature department! You'd do great with your poetry and stuff. Man, you should let people read those."  
  
Satoshi of the present remembered he kept the poetry a secret because he was never sure of it. Words just came to him in his mind that if he said would sound pretty stupid. Written down, they looked nice. Sho never laughed at it.  
  
"Yeah! I could read your poems all day! And watch your painting. You paint like a pro. Maybe you should go to art school instead. What's nearest to Keio? Let's dorm."  
  
Satoshi now wished he said yes. That would have changed everything.  
  
"You gotta name our goldfish." Satoshi held up the plastic bag with the tiny orange fish.  
  
"Call it 'our goldfish' until you agree to go to college and dorm with me."  
  
"That's a stupid thing to call the goldfish." Satoshi tried not to sound as petulant. He really didn't like conversations about college.  
  
"I promise I'll think of a name. But you gotta promise we'll share a place when we both go to college."  
  
"I don't think I'm suited for college, that's all."  
  
"Then I'll make you!"  
  
"I don't want to go!" That was the first and last time Satoshi raised his voice to someone. The shock and hurt on Sho's face was clear under the moonlight.  
  
"But...we're  _us_. It can't just be me." Sho said hesitantly. "You know?"  
  
They looked at each other for a while, and there was nothing but silence as Satoshi searched Sho's eyes.  
  
"We gotta stick together," Sho added firmly. "You and I. We're a team. You don't mind me even if people say I'm intimidating. And you won't come out of your shell and show people how not boring you are, but I'll help."  
  
"We...get each other." Satoshi stepped closer. Sho didn't seem to mind. He grinned. "Exactly."  
  
And Satoshi kissed him. He could remember Sho's warm, pillowy lips and the smell of cotton candy, fifteen years later.  
  
Sho tumbled backward to a tree, immediately breaking the kiss. Satoshi has drawn Sho's face enough times to know that the latter's shock was not tinged in the slightest with displeasure. Still, Sho nudged him hard, also making Satoshi stumble and almost drop the goldfish.  
  
"I was going to!" Sho blurted. "Set the mood first, will you!" He kept nudging and Satoshi kept laughing until Sho was, too.  
  
"You think you're boring and predictable," Sho said quietly. "Then you pull off stuff like that. I wish more people will know about just how cool you actually are."  
  
Tears were hot in Satoshi's eyes, recalling this moment fifteen years later. That wish has come true, now that Satoshi was a pro poet.  
  
But the younger Satoshi refused the compliment. It didn't matter to him what other people thought. He opened his mouth to protest, "But then you sai-"  
  
Then Sho kissed him. To hell with the future. It was that moment that mattered. That fleeting moment of pure happiness and contentment.  
  
The most beautiful things in life bloom then fade.  
  
The fishbowl fell and shattered near his feet. For the first time in fifteen years, he allowed himself to cry, to curl up and howl into the night.  
  
"Sho, Sho..." Satoshi whimpered.  
  
The day after the festival, Sho had texted. "I'm off to check out an apartment for you, me and OT (ore tachi)!"  
  
And Satoshi, who woke up late, was texting him back when he saw the news on TV, behind his mother's horrified face. Son of a politician, the victim of an accident.  
  
Eighteen-year-old Sho Sakurai was pronounced dead.  
  
Satoshi's soul died that day.  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [goldfish scooping](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goldfish_scooping), balloon scooping, ring toss (Fourth Stage)  
>  typical games in a [Japanese summer festival](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_festivals)
> 
> Orihime, Hikoboshi (Fourth Stage)  
> the star-crossed lovers of the [Tanabata](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanabata) legend  
> Long story short, Princess Orihime and Hikoboshi the cowherd get to reunite once a year on a summer festival called Tanabata. Based on the actual stars Altair and Vega.  
> This is the topic of [my next Yama fic](http://lorchenne.livejournal.com/9535.html).


	5. Fifth Stage「受容」

  
**Fifth Stage**

_Sunrise, moonrise, winter, spring_  
rainbows that tomorrow's storms bring  
daylight, starlight, summer, fall  
rivers flow from mountains tall

...just you and I through it all.

* * *

_The Sixteenth Year_  
  
It was a night to remember, indeed.  
  
Satoshi Ohno has just announced a book tour for his latest poetry collection:  _15 Years_. Just when everyone thought he had fallen off the planet, he emerged just a month ago with renewed passion and a serene vibe that people didn't see before. And a potential exhibition for some fascinating paintings that depict summer festivals.  
  
He has finally come out from living with his parents for some time, spending most of his recovery by painting and writing. But that year, he was more candid. He finally spoke about the subject of his poetry.  
  
The past year ended with the tragic death of his goldfish and the realization that even if he got himself another one, the time he spent with the past goldfish is long gone. At the very least, he had that time at all. Such it was with all things in the past. Another goldfish would be a totally new life. There was no replacing, no hiding, no erasing anymore. Just gratitude that it all happened.  
  
At the press conference, some people got confused. Satoshi Ohno was writing about a deceased pet all this time? But with his book selling thousands nationwide plus a promising art career to boot, Satoshi Ohno's name was there to stay in every household and every MyMixi.  
  
But not his own heart.  
  
  
  
He now had a habit of wearing a blue kimono to formal events. Blue, like the sea, he would say. In truth it was blue for the sky, but Satoshi would rather keep that to himself. Like the special poetry he still writes and sends regularly, it was now exclusive for Sho Sakurai.  
  
He gave his farewells to his parents at the dinner after the conference. He had spent the entire week moving into an apartment with a nice view of the temple and of the sea. The new place was basically a one-room, but that was good, so sunlight could pour in and shine into the house plants near aquarium in the corner. And his paintings sometimes glittered in it. Sho's red yukata in his painting looked nice that way, too. He took a small unlined journal with him and walked off to the temple with a pink envelope in hand. There were three times in a year he did a special poem now: Sho's birthday, Christmas and the anniversary of Sho's passing.  
  
His kimono billowed in the gentle night breeze as he looked up to the sky and smiled to the stars for the first time in sixteen years. He stood on the steps of a certain temple as he gazed at the stretch of the starry display just as he had done all those years ago, when he and Sho shared something special and secret.  
  
The pain in his heart was an old would but the memories with it were once again sweet. Coincidentally, camelias had grown near that very tree Sho stumbled onto. It was as if nature somehow knew Satoshi had not given up, that he was still waiting for a response.  _Death is not the end._  Satoshi had learned that it was just part of a new reality. It was time he continued on Sho's dream for him. It's his dream now too.  
  
The new resting place of his two goldfish was under the camelia bushes, beside the tree. He walked by nightly just to say hello. After that, he would walk off to send his poetry of the day. Satoshi didn't think it was such a lonely prospect anymore. If there was a heaven, Sho might just be laughing at the ridiculousness of being pursued by poetry for sixteen years... _and counting_.  
  
Satoshi will just keep on writing his love, though for now there's no reply.

* * *

おわり  
End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter names  
> the names of the chapters are derived from the [Japanese version](https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E6%AD%BB%E3%81%AC%E7%9E%AC%E9%96%93) of the Kübler-Ross model of the five stages of grief:  
> 1\. Denial  
> 2\. Anger  
> 3\. Bargaining  
> 4\. Depression  
> 5\. Acceptance  
> If you reread the Stages, you might feel these things with Satoshi. Or you might see how I attempted to hint on it with the poetry at the beginning of each stage. I tried. OTL
> 
> camellias (Fifth Stage)  
> in the flower language means "longing" or "waiting", depending on the colors
> 
> Author's note:
> 
> What started out as a fun little project made a surprising turn for me. This is by far my most emotional fanfic, clearly it's not my style as you might notice from my main project Mets Men (action/sci-fi/dystopia) and Mr. Lonely (romance-comedy/low fantasy)
> 
> We've all experienced loss in some way, so I wanted to write a story of a path to heal in the hopes that Satoshi's fifteen years will help you along your own path. :)
> 
> The original creator of this story is a dynamic duo known as ManboP (details in Disclaimers) and I plan to adapt other ManboP works into Yama. Stay tuned!
> 
>   
>  Disclaimers:
> 
> This story is based on [this song and music video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdSUMFi5FYE) of the same name.  
> Produced by: [家の裏でマンボウが死んでるP](http://vocaloid.wikia.com/wiki/Ie_no_Ura_de_Manbou_ga_ShinderuP)  
> ([YouTube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K9-16vMPu6I)| [nico nico douga](http://www.nicovideo.jp/watch/sm11361320))  
> [Lyrics and Info, please click here](http://vocaloid.wikia.com/wiki/%E7%B2%98%E7%9D%80%E7%B3%BB%E7%94%B7%E5%AD%90%E3%81%AE%EF%BC%91%EF%BC%95%E5%B9%B4%E3%83%8D%E3%83%81%E3%83%8D%E3%83%81_\(Nenchaku-kei_Danshi_no_15-nen_Nechinechi\))


End file.
